


white shirt, warm heart

by yuneepreludee



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Death, Depression, M/M, TwoSet Violin - Freeform, breddy - Freeform, please read warnings, post-twoset, twoset - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28977924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuneepreludee/pseuds/yuneepreludee
Summary: "How does it feel? To have something - someone, that you love so much throughout your whole life.""It's - exhilarating. Energizing. To love something - someone - so much, and to know that you're capable of that love - it gives you confidence, makes you believe that you're one step closer to living, to becoming something more human, and not just some flesh covering bones."
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	white shirt, warm heart

**Author's Note:**

> **TW: death, slight mention of depression, car accidents**
> 
> Hi guys! This was inspired by the tiktok of Brett in a white shirt - I wanted to write about him as an office worker, but it ended up becoming this long angsty thing that you see here.
> 
> Some context before reading:  
> 1\. The idea for the Japanese diner is loosely based on a Japanese show titled Midnight Diner - I've always loved the atmosphere pictured in the show, and thought it would be fitting for the background of this story.  
> 2\. The story is set in the future ~~(one we'll never want to see)~~.
> 
> It's my first long work, hope you guys enjoy <3

You check your phone. It's 1 o'clock in the morning. You should've been home way before this. But somehow, you end up beside the river, staring out at the water. Most of the shops nearby have already closed for the night, save one small dingy-looking, Japanese-style diner - the type of place that you would never usually go.

But then, today isn't your usual day.

You stand and turn, heading for the diner. 

A small bell tinkles as you push the rickety wooden door open. The diner is empty, save for the shopkeeper and a man sitting by the corner who looks up at you. You ignore him and take a seat near the door.

"Can I have a beer, please?"

The shopkeeper nods in silence. Rummaging in the counter, he sets down a bottle of beer and a glass in front of you. You incline your head in thanks, and he retreats to the kitchen.

You fill your glass, and down it in one go. Alcohol isn't your usual thing, but today it just seems appropriate, given the amount of shit happening in your life. You refill your glass, empty it, and repeat. The movement almost seems mechanical, like muscle memory, like you're not even paying any attention to it.

Before long, you've finished the bottle, and you raise your hand for one more. You notice the man in the corner staring at you. He looks worried - or maybe it's just your brain overthinking, because why would a person be worried for a complete stranger?

You attempt to drown your worries in alcohol, but it doesn't seem to be working as well as you'd expect it to. Nonetheless, you power through the bottle, only stopping when you finish the last drop. You're rewarded with a pleasantly warm, tingling sensation that spreads over your body, and you sigh in satisfaction. 

The man in the corner is still looking at you when he thinks you're not noticing - but you do. You study him as he tries to hide his face in his food. He's Asian, looks to be in his forties, but with a pair of black, round-rimmed glasses that made him seem younger than he actually is. He looks tired - but who doesn't in this rowdy city? He looks like an everyday white collar worker, but for some reason you find yourself transfixed by his face. _Weird,_ you think to yourself. You pay for your drinks and stand to leave, trying to shake off the man's gaze on your back as you exit the diner. 

Once outside, you inhale deeply, filling your lungs with the cool night air. The streets are abnormally empty for a Friday night, but then this area was never known for its nightlife. You return to the river. The stone bench beside it is cold to the touch, but you sit down nevertheless. You don't feel like going home just yet; right now, you're not ready to return and face the mess that is your life, so you just stay where you are.

"Is this seat taken?"

An unfamiliar voice jolts you out of your trance. You turn to see the man from the diner. He smiles politely before sitting down beside you. You simply stare at him, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I saw you in the diner," he gestures to the diner behind both of you, "and figured you could use a listening ear. You look like you have a lot on your mind."

Your alcohol-numbed mind barely manages to formulate a response. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

The man looks amused. "I suppose not, but sometimes it's easier to speak to strangers, isn't it?"

"Not untrue, but bold of you to assume that and walk up to a girl, a complete stranger, expecting them to spill the beans about their lives."

He lets out a short laugh, the sound ringing out in the silence of the night.

You know the whole scenario looks ridiculous - sitting beside the river with someone who you met only half an hour ago, and contemplating whether to tell them your life story. A part of your rationality is screaming at you to _get the hell away from him, you don't know shit about him_ , but you're mostly intrigued, somewhat impressed by his boldness.

You have no idea what's happening to you - maybe it was the alcohol that loosened your tongue, but you realize you're talking even before your brain comprehends it.

"I don't know what I'm doing: working a job I don't even like, living a life that I've always feared I would live. Everything's just sort of crumbling together and breaking me down, to an extent where sometimes I feel like there's no point to living anymore-"

You pause, and the realization hits you.

"-but I guess everyone in this city feels that way somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start ranting-"

"It's okay, you needed to get that off your chest, and if it helped you feel a bit better, I'm willing to listen." he replies with a thoughtful look on his face. You stay silent, mortified by your outburst.

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes. Then he suddenly speaks up.

"Did you ever have dreams?"

You laugh out loud. It's a bitter sound. "What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one."

"I erased the word from my vocabulary years ago."

He was silent for a while before resuming. "I'm sorry."

You turn to look at him then. "Why?"

"For living in a world that took the thing you loved most away from you."

He says it with some conviction, like he's been through a similar situation and knows too well how it feels, and you can't help but feel intrigued.

"I'm curious as to why you said that."

He starts, like he wasn't expecting you to say that. "It's a very long story."

"And we have the whole night ahead of us." You manage a grin.

He grins too. "Fair enough."

\-------------------------------------------------

"Before working this 9 to 5, I was doing the thing I loved most in life - music. I was a violinist in a symphony orchestra-"

The statement sounds so absurd, you can't help but snort. "How is music even a real job?"

You suddenly realize your rudeness and open your mouth to apologize, but he waves it off.

"It's okay, I get that a lot. I've become used to it."

"So you're saying you worked in an - orchestra? As a musician?"

"It's a decent paying job, not that many people would realize."

"I thought music was just something that your parents would force you to do as a kid."

He winces slightly at your words.

"Sorry. That's what it was like for me though." You shrug.

"I understand. Asian parents, hey." He laughs and continues.

"I was happy, but I wasn't content. I wanted to do more, and that's when my best friend and I founded our own YouTube channel."

You raise an eyebrow. "Seriously, YouTube? That old thing?"

"Hey, it was _the_ thing back in those days. Anyway, I guess we kind of made it, because at one point we had over 5 million subscribers - that was way beyond our expectations. We loved making content for the channel, sharing our love for classical music and making classical music relevant to the public."

"Life was perfect - I was doing what I loved, with the most important person in my life right beside me. I couldn't want anything more. For years, I was content just practicing and honing my craft with - him, and I never wanted anything to change."

He pauses, and you see a shadow pass over his eyes.

"Six years ago, we were involved in a car accident. It was a Saturday night, and we were going to get bubble tea after a filming session. I still remember the scene: I was driving, and he was jamming to Mahler's Symphony No. 5 on the stereo."

"As we were crossing a busy junction, a speeding car flew out of nowhere and crashed into us from the left. I was very badly injured, but he - he didn't survive the crash." His voice starts to tremble. You raise your hand, asking him to stop, but he waves you away, like he's been waiting a long time to get it all off his chest.

"I was hospitalized for 2 months, and even when my body had healed, my mind was still in shock. I couldn't cope with the thought of my best friend, my partner in crime - the person I loved most, gone. Just like that."

He stops, takes a shaky breath, and plows on.

"For five years, I lived in a trance. I shut myself out, cut off all unnecessary human interaction, refused any contact with music or my violin. It hurt too much to bear, and I could not, would not stand living in a world without him."

He shakes his head, as if to snap out of it.

"I couldn't work as a musician anymore - something in my hands was injured beyond repair, and mentally I just - couldn't. So this happened." He gestures at his outfit.

"And that's my story."  
The ensuing silence is overwhelming, broken only by the gentle sounds of water lapping against stone.

You say the only thing that comes to mind. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He laughs.

"For everything that you've had to go through."

He allows himself a wistful, ghost of a smile.

You can't think of anything to say that would improve the situation, so you stay silent. The two of you stay that way for a couple of minutes before you speak.

"How does it feel? To have something - someone, that you love so much throughout your whole life."

He glances at you, seemingly surprised by your sudden question, but answers it anyway.

"It's - exhilarating. Energizing. To love something - someone - so much, and to know that you're capable of that love - it gives you confidence, makes you believe that you're one step closer to living, to becoming something more human, and not just some flesh covering bones."

He's rushing through his words - barely, but enough for you to discern that something seems _different_.

"I take it that he was more than a friend to you."

He startles, takes a deep breath before answering. "Yes."

You look straight at him now. In the dim yellow light of the streetlamps, he looks old - too old for his age, as if events from the past few years sheared off a fair amount of time from his life.

"I loved him - so much. He was my anchor, my rock, the person that held me in and kept me sane when things got rough. He was my soulmate, even thought I'd never admitted it openly. He was always there for me, and never gave up on me even though I was admittedly not a very well-tempered person. He was so kind and gentle, and he reflected that in his violin playing."

"When he played the violin, he would be lost to the world. It would only be his violin, him, and the music in between - and occasionally me, when we played our duets. Music was such an integral part of his being, I couldn't imagine him doing anything else, unlike me." He shakes his head ruefully.

"Sometimes I felt like I didn't deserve him - the world didn't do enough to deserve him. He was picture perfect, endlessly talented, but he chose to stick with me for most of his life." his voice choked up a bit, took on a desperate tone. "At one point, I hated the world, hated fate for extinguishing his flame when he was shining the brightest. He should've deserved more time in this life, not - not some ghost of a memory, living in the past."

"I loved him for years; decades, even. But I didn't want to damage the bond between us by making the move. Now, not telling him that I loved him - it'll always be my life's biggest regret."

He meets your gaze - the earnestness and depth of his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

"I don't know why I told you this story," he says, "but maybe I thought that it could help you with the dilemma you're in with your life right now. Think about it, yeah? Don't let the grind of life take away what you love. Find your way, your dream, and work towards it. It won't be easy, but it'll be worth the effort - and when you look back on those days, you won't have any regrets."

His eyes are glistening, but he's smiling out at the still water, as if reliving good times in his head. You brush away a stray tear, and follow his gaze across the river.

"Thank you for entrusting me with your story," you say softly.

He gives you a gentle smile. "Thank you for listening."

You take out your phone to check the time - it's 3 o'clock in the morning.

"I should be going now," you say as you stand and shoulder your bag. "Thank you - for everything."

The man merely smiles in return. As you turn to leave, a thought occurs to you.

"I just realized I never asked for your name."

"Ah," he smiles. "My name is Brett Yang, his name is Eddy Chen, and we were TwoSet Violin."

**Author's Note:**

> Not ashamed to admit that I cried writing the last sentence.
> 
> Drop me comments and suggestions, I welcome them a lot :D
> 
> Thank you to jen, jin and yujie for beta-ing <3


End file.
